Maigret Gets Angry Read Online Free PDF Page B

was a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. He clearly thought that the former chief
inspector was intimidated by his wealth and did not dare call him by his first name.
    ‘You can call me Ernest,’ he said
condescendingly, rolling a cigar between his long, manicured fingers. ‘We were
schoolmates after all … No, I didn’t
catch him and I had no intention of doing so.’
    He was lying. It was enough to have seen the way
he had raced out of the room.
    ‘I simply wanted to know where he was going
… He’s very highly strung, as sensitive as a girl.
    ‘When I left the room for a moment,
earlier, I went up to his room to scold him. I was quite harsh with him and I’m always
worried …’
    Did he read in Maigret’s eyes that he was
thinking of Monita, making a connection with the girl who had drowned and who was also highly
strung? Probably, because he hastened to add:
    ‘Oh! It’s not what you think. He
loves himself too much to do that! But he does run away sometimes. Once, he went missing for a
week and was found by chance on a building site where he had just been hired.’
    The eldest boy listened with indifference. He was
on his father’s side, that was obvious. He had a deep contempt for this brother they were
talking about and who took after his grandmother.
    ‘As I knew he had no pocket money, I
followed him and I’m relieved … He simply went to see old Bernadette and is probably
crying on her shoulder as we speak.’
    Darkness was falling, and Maigret had the
impression that Malik was less concerned about his own facial expressions. His features
hardened, his gaze became even sharper, without that irony that tempered its fierceness a
little.
    ‘Are you absolutely sure about sleeping at
Jeanne’s? I could send a servant to go and collect your luggage.’
    This
insistence displeased Maigret, who interpreted it as a threat. Perhaps he was wrong? Perhaps it
was his ill temper counselling him?
    ‘I’ll go and sleep at
L’Ange,’ he said.
    ‘Will you accept my invitation for
tomorrow? You’ll meet some interesting people here. There aren’t many of us. Six
houses in total, including the former chateau across the river. But there are some real
characters!’
    And on that note, a shot was heard coming from
the direction of the river. Maigret didn’t have a chance to react before his companion
explained:
    ‘Old Groux shooting woodpigeon. An
eccentric whom you’ll meet tomorrow. He owns that entire hill that you can see – or
would be able to see if it weren’t dark – on the opposite side of the river. He
knows I want to buy it, and for twenty years he’s been refusing to sell, even though he
hasn’t got a cent to his name.’
    Why had his voice dropped, like someone who is
suddenly struck by a new idea mid-sentence?
    ‘Can you find your way back? Jean-Claude
will see you to the gate. Will you lock up, Jean-Claude? Follow the towpath and after two
hundred metres take the little woodland path that goes straight to L’Ange
…
If you like stories, you’ll have your fill, because old Jeanne, who suffers from
insomnia, is probably already watching out for you and will give you your money’s worth,
especially if you sympathize with her woes and take pity on her many ailments.’
    He drained his glass and stood up, signalling
that the evening was over.
    ‘See you tomorrow, around midday. I’m counting on
you.’
    He held out a strong, dry hand.
    ‘It’s funny bumping into one another
after so many years … Good night, my friend.’
    A slightly patronizing, distant ‘goodnight,
my friend’.
    Already, as Maigret descended the steps
accompanied by the eldest son, Malik had vanished inside the house.
    There was no moon and the night had grown quite
dark. As Maigret walked along the towpath, he heard the slow, repetitive plashing of a pair of
oars. A voice hissed:
    ‘Stop!’
    The noise ceased, giving way to another, that of
a casting net being thrown over the side. Poachers, most likely.
    He